Whenever You Dream
by SamanthaFeng
Summary: He chased after her, and was stunned when she woged briefly into her Hexenbiest form. Fusion, Leverage AU in Grimm 'verse.


Author's Notes: Written for nathan_sophie's Ten Weeks of Nate&Sophie on LJ, prompt "Fusion". This fic, in short, is Nate/Sophie in Grimm' verse. For anyone who never watched the show Grimm, you only need to know Grimm is a people who has special power that can see the true form of Wesen(who have two forms, human form and animal form) and destines to hunt them. Hexenbiest is a witch like Wesen, its Wesen part can be destroyed by Grimm's blood.

To make things simpler, Maggie and Sam didn't happen in this fic.

Huge thanks to sashimitales on LJ who fixed my mistakes (there were so many of them) for me.

* * *

**_"Soon he was so in love with the witch's daughter that he could think of nothing else. He lived by the light of her eyes and gladly did whatever she asked."_**

He watches her. Her eyes are slowly losing focus, and then closing under his soothing encouragement. Her breaths are long and even, but the color is starting to drain from her face.

"Farewell, my dear." He kisses her on the lips.

He carefully takes what belongs to him now, and exits the house.

The door clicks behind him.

* * *

Tuscany.

Interpol Agent Nathan Ford's morning has started with a call to the crime scene.

"Second body this month?"

"Inspector." Sergeant McSweenten greets him and points to the body laying motionlessly on the bed, "Seems so. Female, mid-30s, same MO."

"Did we get anything this time?"

"I doubt it. Local police arrived an hour ago, but there isn't much evidences. M.E only came in shortly before you did, but I can tell you now the cause of death was heart failure."

"So what's missing this time?" Agent Ford eyes the room, but knows what he's looking for won't be exhibited in plain sight.

"Another Van Gogh- The name is, according to the insurer," Sergeant McSweenten checks his notes, "Cafe Terrace at Night."

Agent Ford does a quick round of the house, but nothing catches his attention. The vault has no signs of forced entry, as he expects, and all the other valuable collections except the Van Gogh are left untouched. The woman on bed looks peaceful, as if she died in her sleep, There are no signs of struggle either.

Deeply frustrated after interviewing the butler who found the body, Sergeant McSweenten approaches Nathan also empty-handed. "Whoever our killer is, we don't have anything on him. We've been chasing him, or her for two months now. I think we need some help."

Looking around the room, Agent Nathan Ford contemplates all the possible ways to find traces of their guy. A thought suddenly comes to him. His lips curl up slightly. "I might know the right person to call."

* * *

Sophie Devereaux is a thief. The best art thief and grifter he's ever known.

The first time they met, he was still Sergeant Ford, and she was Duchess Alexia of Barrington Highsworth. That was in Prague, eight years ago. He didn't suspect the elegant Duchess until the last minute, when she was already half way gone with the Degas. He chased after her, and was stunned when she woged briefly into her Hexenbiest form. He wasn't aware of his family inheritance then, and she was the very first Wesen he recognized. She took advantage of his shock and slipped away.

Two years later, the newly promoted Inspector Nathan Ford (and the Grimm who just found out his ability) was sent to Damascus for a case. She showed up as Princess Magda of Slovenia. Inspector Ford saw through her right away this time. Later, he caught up with her on the busy street of Damascus, with the little souvenir she took. To his utter surprise, she turned around, flashed him the most stunning smile, and invited him for a coffee. Against his better judgment, he accepted the invitation (to see what game she was playing, he told himself). Despite their conflicting interests, they still managed to have a lovely afternoon. She had a way of bringing down his guard; they wandered around the ancient city, talked about the history and the art the city was famous for (especially the particular piece she carried). She brought him to a small cafe she claimed always loved and ordered him coffee and homemade cookies. In the end, he kept the little piece she stole, and she got away still whole.

* * *

"Inspector Ford." A familiar teasing voice takes Nathan Ford's focus away from the papers in front of him.

"Sophie." He looks up, seeing the woman he called a few hours ago leaning against the door. "How did you get in?"

"Oh, you know..." Giving him a sly smile, she comes in and sits on the chair opposite him. Knowing how good she is with her tricks, he doesn't press for details, only smiles at the person in front of him.

"That was quick; I thought you were having a good time in Paris."

"Well, I was. But you needed me, so I jumped on the first plane to get here. A Interpol agent asks a thief for help, things like this don't happen every day." She skims through the papers on his desk, and lean forward, "So how can I help you then, Inspector Ford?"

"I'm on a case. Three deaths in two months, same method, different locations, Boston, Marseilles, and Tuscany. All look like natural deaths." Nate gives her a briefing on the case," The thing is, we know it's the same killer, but we don't know how he killed them, and we don't have anything on him. I thought you might be able to help me."

"So you're investigating homicides now. I thought you were responsible for, how do you call it, the illicit traffic in works of art."

"I was getting to that part. There is art involved, two Van Goghs and one Monet. That's why I called you."

"Oh." Her eyes light up, "So your guy took away three pieces of art that are worth millions of dollars each, and left no evidence, no witnesses. You said your victims all seem to have died naturally, what's the cause of death?"

"Heart failure."

This seems to register something. She picks up the file with autopsy result and frowns. "Can I see the bodies?"

* * *

He dreamt about her that night, when he returned to hotel after giving back the antique Sophie stole and closing the case.

He woke up from the dream, sitting up in his bed with sweat soaking his shirt, heart pounding in his chest, her warmth still lingering on his fingertips. The images were so vivid, he spent the rest of the night lying there awake, craving for a warm body to be in his arms.

He still dreams of her even now, once in a while, after so many years. But they're in a different place now, so different that he sometimes wonders, how they, a Interpol and a thief, a Grimm and a Hexenbiest, come to this.

* * *

Sophie examines the three female bodies carefully. Nate follows her closely, but isn't sure what she sees.

"Do we have any information on these women?"

"They're all mid-30s to early 40s," Nate expains, trying to fill her in more, "rich, apparently. Husbands were all away on business trips when the murders happened. The times of death were all during the night when servants were sent away, there were no sign of struggles, so we assume the victims picked up some young guy, dismissed the servants so they can meet up secretly. Also, the husbands are all very important ambassadors in their own countries, so this case is actually pretty high-profile now."

Sophie nods, checking one of the women's eyes for the last time. "I think I know their real cause of death."

"And that is?"

"You know, my kind are, by nature, great grifters. Not just because of our looks and our natural ability to manipulate people, but also because of our knowledge of potions. As good as we are, we can't make everyone fall in love with us, so that's when the potions comes in handy. There are simple ones, easily made and can be given to anyone, to make them like you. And stronger ones, when need to create deep emotional response, but they'll only work for a limited time. Oh and the best ones,"

Sophie gets excited when she talks about the thing she knows best. Nate, on the other hand, is a bit unsure if he should be disgusted by the way this creature talks about manipulating people, or amused by her acting like a kid in a candy shop. Sophie waves her hands around, like she's showing him all those kinds of potions.

"The best ones are blood spells. The strongest also. They create a unique connection between the Hexenbiest who made the potion and the receiver and them only. Our victims here, were killed by the nastiest kind. They would be obsessed with our killer, would dream about him, have visions of him, giving our killer the chance to get close to them. And when they finally, you know, got involved, the spell would be brought to a higher level, so when he left and broke the connection, they would die. But it would look like heart failure to you humans."

Nate tries to process the information he's got. "So, the killer is one of your kinds then?"

"If I'm right. I might have a name for you as well." She grabs a paper and scribbles something on it. "Marcus Starke. Brilliant gifter, even better with potions. He has a soft spot for Van Gogh. Everything here fits his pattern. There're two things he loves most, arts, and-"

"Women?"

"No, much uglier than that."

"Politics."

"I can't even say it. You know, we grifters don't normally kill, but I won't be surprise if Marcus took some side jobs for politicians while stealing the paintings. But if this was Starke, we need to find him quickly. He never spends more than two days in the same place after he gets what he wanted. He usually liquidates them immediately and then disappears. We should look for him in...in..."

"Auctions."

"Yes, auctions." Her eyes are sparkling with excitement now, "The Mona Lisa variant. That's his favorite scam."

No need for another word, they smile knowing to each other, both aware of what exactly the next step should be.

Suddenly, she steps forward, her right hand on his lapel, a faint smile dancing on her lips. "The brain of yours, is indeed very, very sexy, Inspector Ford."

His throat suddenly feels very try. He swallows, and sees the smile deepen in her eyes. "That, uh, potion thing you talked earlier, you've never used that on me, have you?"

It was meant to be a gentle tease. But she tenses for a split second and answers a little too quick. "Oh, I would never."

If he didn't know her so well, he wouldn't notice she's using the voice she reserves for her marks, he wouldn't catch her averting her gaze. But he does know her, he can read her like an open book, and his heart drops at the only possible answer.

* * *

What they have now is an odd relationship. They're not enemies, not anymore, though he still chases her every once in a while. That's a little game of theirs, which always ends with him getting what she stole, and she walking away without a charge. (But on rare occasions, when she gets away with her trophy, she would tease him for months.) They're friends, perhaps, although how absurd it sounds, for a Grimm be friend with a Wesen. They spend time together, when their paths cross, which, is normally during one of her cons. They'll spend a whole afternoon (sometimes a whole day) in some coffee shop, or wandering around in some beautiful European city, sharing their recent stories and their passion for art. He calls her for help, occasionally, for a case he could use her resources, or to consult about a Wesen he recently sees (after all, he has only been a Grimm for a few years, while she has been a Hexenbiest all her life).

He has an indecipherable feeling whenever she's close. His heart beats faster, his hands don't want to stay still, he becomes very aware of her every move, every smile, every breath. Is it love, he wonders, or an alertness a Grimm would have when he is close to a Wesen? He couldn't tell. (Although it doesn't seem to happen with other Wesens). Is it even possible, for a Grimm to fall for a Hexenbiest? He's looked through all the books and notes his ancestors left, but couldn't find a answer.

But, he might have one now.

* * *

Sophie disappears when his cellphone starts to ring and he has to take the call from his boss.

The local police hold a search for all auctions and arrest Marcus Starke in one of the auction houses. Nate interviews him. He is in a bad mood, so he gets a confession faster than usual.

A few hours later, when the night just starts to fall, he arrives at Sophie's hotel, and finds out that she's packing.

"You're leaving." His voice comes out calmer than he really feels.

"My job is done here." She still won't look at him. The anger in him is so overwhelming now, he has to clench his jaw to bite it back.

The good thing is, his voice is still unbelievable steady. "And you walk away like this, without saying anything."

"What do you want me to say?" She murmurs, gaze fixing on some point on the floor.

"So you did drug me then. When?"

"Remember the home-made cookie in Damascus?"

He laughs at the thought," You know, Sophie, I thought...I thought we had become friends, I thought despite who we are, we might be able to trust each other. And now, now you're telling me these are all a spell?"

"I do trust you, Nate." Her voice is barely audible, but she says it like she means every word.

"And how am I supposed to know? It's a lie in the first place." The rage he feels finally shows, he can hear his own words echoing in the room.

"That's what I do, Nate," Sophie seems angry too now, her voice is raised to match his, "I'm a Hexenbiest, that was my first instinct. You could have killed me, for god's sake!"

"You don't know that." He says defensively, "I don't just kill any Wesen I meet."

"Exactly. So what was I supposed to do, leaving my life to chance just because a Grimm I just know exsits might decide not to kill a Wesen?"

Suddenly very tired, he lowers his voice. "What's the antidote?"

"I..." Her voice is a little bit shaky. "I don't think you still need it. The spell should've wore off by now, after all these years."

"What's the antidote Sophie?" His voice is ice-cold. Avoiding his stare again, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You'll have to kill me," she says.

"Sophie." He doesn't know if she's telling the truth, he isn't sure whether he can read her anymore.

"I used a blood potion. Not the kind Marcus used, but you're a Grimm, I had to be cautious."

It's one of the rare moments in Nate's life he has absolutely no idea what to do or what to say. The fury in his chest is bubbling and rushing and smashing, but can find no way out. His hands are shaking now, he knows she notices too, because when he fists them on his side, her eyes follow his move.

They silently stare at each other. Sophie is the first one to back down. She looks away, and exhales deeply. When her gaze returns to his face, something in her eyes seems to collapse, and she looks somehow...determined.

Suddenly, she is inches away from him. She grips his collar and crushes her lips to his. It sears like fire. He is shocked at first, but the feeling of her warm body pressing against him, her soft lips gently sucking his bottom lip, her tongue demanding entrance feels so good, too good, he has to let go.

He backs her against the wall, his fingers sliding into her thick hair, and he tastes her (she tastes like flowers and plum and the finest wine) like a thirsty man.

The rage has vanished now, all he can feel and sense and think about is the woman beneath him, right until—

A sharp pain shoots through him, and his eyes snap open. instinctly, he pushes Sophie away. Through the cloudy haze of desire, he realizes his lip is bleeding now. He takes several steps back, looking at the woman in front of him in disbelief.

Her eyes still closed, Sophie slips slowly to the floor. She seems to be in great pain, with a witch-like spirit emergeing from her body, struggling and screaming and a few seconds later, finally flying away. The room becomes very quiet. She lies so still on the floor, all color drained from her face, leaving the blood on her lips and mouth corner hauntingly red.

The sight snaps all of the air in Nate's chest. His body goes cold, fearing the worst he might have done. He kneels down beside her, tentatively puts his finger under her nose, and feels all his senses come back when the faint breath tickles his fingertip. She shifts under his touch, her warmth brings him down to the ground.

"Sophie." His voice breaks against his will. She opens her eyes, looking directly at him and he sees a Sophie he never knew. "What have you done?" he asks.

She touches her lips and closes her eyes briefly when she sees the blood on her fingertip. She rises to her feet, he follows her move and watches her walking to the door and holding it open for him. "The spell is broken now." She says, sounding so very tired and distant. "You're free."

Nate pauses at the door, but nothing comes out of his mouth.

* * *

He returns to his own hotel in a haze.

Six years of his life seems to have been drained from him. He feels both relieved and bereft.

He goes to bed, hoping for a night of peace finally after six years.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, and realizes all of a sudden, he dreams about her all the same.

* * *

A/N again: I might write a few follow-up chapters if this one is well received. But this works as a one-shot as well.


End file.
